"Please—I-I told you everything! The kids'll be there! I swear!" The man, currently chained spread eagle and naked over a factory smokestack in Gotham's industrial district, is beginning to squeal an alarming octave echoing down through the enormous piping below.
"Oh, I know that," Midnighter responds as he sits squatting on the wide rim of the smokestack.
"Wh-what—What else do you want?! Just let me go!"
"No, no," he tells him with a calm voice, only to pluck at one of the chains to start another rash of screams. "You're here for a purpose."
"Wh-what? What are you talking about?!"
"You're bait for bigger prey," Midnighter gleefully tells him. But his attention is on the darkness around them, listening for an unnatural wind to swoop beside him. Or punch him. That'll do fine.
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"Oh, I know that," Midnighter responds as he sits squatting on the wide rim of the smokestack.
"Wh-what—What else do you want?! Just let me go!"
"No, no," he tells him with a calm voice, only to pluck at one of the chains to start another rash of screams. "You're here for a purpose."
"Wh-what? What are you talking about?!"
"You're bait for bigger prey," Midnighter gleefully tells him. But his attention is on the darkness around them, listening for an unnatural wind to swoop beside him. Or punch him. That'll do fine.